


51

by viraseii



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Area 51 Raid, Crack, M/M, i started writing this back when this was still funny pls just take it and go LMAO, they just go invade area 51 and lance brings home a hot alien boyfriend that's all it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28766184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viraseii/pseuds/viraseii
Summary: lance finds hot alien bf in area 51
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 75





	51

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS A CRACK FIC

Lance lowers his binoculars. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this. How do we even know there’s gonna be anything in there? You know, considering Area 51 is so... common knowledge??”

“Hey, if we live, we get major bank for this gig,” Pidge reminds him. “And we deserve something fun after that Manhattan heist.”

“F-... _fun?_ ” Lance balks at her. And then, “oh. Ohhhhh, I get it, this is, like, your childhood fantasy, isn’t it?” She grins conspiratorially in response. “Real funny. Well I hope for all our sakes this is a major dud and we can escape with no injuries and milk the cow when we get out, harm free.” He raises his binoculars again to peer at the facility they’ve been studying for the last four months. “Gotta love loopy billionaires who have enough free time to hire us for their dumb Hollywood exploits.”

“Yup, gotta love them,” Pidge laughs. “And the internet.” Lance swivels his binoculars south, to where thousands of people have raised their tents against the unforgiving heat of the Amargosa valley. “One viral Facebook event, one military base spending valuable energy on a completely bullshit stampede.”

Lance sighs, handing his binoculars off to Pidge. “Aren’t you at least a little worried that people are gonna die tomorrow?”

Pidge shrugs. “They seem fine with it. Besides, I doubt they’ll just... open fire on a crowd like that. This is politically _charged._ ”

The earpiece buzzes annoyingly in Lance’s right ear. “Yeah,” Hunk sighs. “Mostly the plan is to just... handle this downtown protest style. Fakes are fully secure and in the system, Pidge.”

“Excellent,” Pidge responds. “Don’t lose them between now and tomorrow, that would make things complicated.” Theres more than a small hint of teasing in her voice.

“One time,” Hunk says, exasperated. “I messed up one time.”

“Yeah, your one time mess up ended up with me in the hospital with a busted knee for six months.” Pidge’s voice turns sweet. “But I’m sure that won’t happen again.”

“ _Ugh,_ it won’t.”

Pidge shoves the binoculars into her bag and flashes Lance an impish smile. “Tomorrow’s gonna be fun,” she promises, to which Lance sighs as they both hoist themselves up off the ground.

“Yeah... it is.” _I guess._

-

“We should find a way to let the people in,” Lance says. He grins. “You know... cause havoc. That’s what they’re all here for, anyway.”

Pidge snorts. “Sure, after we nail our primary target. Because that’s probably gonna be... impossible.”

Lance shrugs. “Yeah, probably? But, I mean... it would be fun.”

“Real professional, guys,” Hunk’s voice grumbles in Lances ear.

“Oh, come on,” Lance argues, very astutely if he’s being honest. “I’ll figure it out, don’t worry too much about it.”

“Whatever, Lance,” Hunk sighs. “Good night. Big day tomorrow.”

-

The raid begins at dawn. It’s a little hilarious to watch, to be honest. As soon as the crowd starts amassing and moving forward, there’s a siren and a blaring announcement warning everyone to leave or go home or _whatever,_ they are _legally authorized to use physical force as necessary to protect military assets,_ as if a bunch of crack conspiracy nerds running for maybe the third time in their life is a serious national threat.

Lance doesn’t pay a whole lot of attention to that, though. He’s busy waiting with Pidge in their rip-off uniforms near the south side of the base, watching as a small buggy completing perimeter check nears their hiding spot.

“And target arrives in 3... 2...”

Lance fires off two quick shots with his silenced rifle, hitting both soldiers right in the neck. Pidge follows immediately with an aimed short-range electromagnetic burst, and the vehicle is theirs.

Lance whistles in appreciation. “These drugs are _strong._ They were completely caught off guard!”

Pidge jabs him in the side under his ribs, forcing out a yelp. “Less babbling, we’ve got 4 seconds.” She vaults over the fake rock they’ve been hiding behind, sprinting for the buggy. She launches herself into the seat like the two soldiers are just extra cushioning, pressing the intercom to send a transmission. “Anything unusual up top? Over.”

A pause, then: “all scans normal. Encounter anything out there, Krosky? Over.”

“Just a lapse in judgement, I thought I saw something. Resuming route. Over.” She gestures hurriedly for Lance to finish lugging the two soldiers back out of sight behind the rock, and then they’re off.

She holds up a fist. “Dude! You nailed those shots, two months at the range and you’re pretty much ready for professional hunting.”

Lance grins so wide it hurts. This part - the breaking in, the hunting down, the _chase_ \- this is his FAVORITE part of their cons. “Yeah-hah!” He laughs, bumping Pidge’s fist. “And your voice changer tech!! You genius hacker, you, they didn’t suspect a thing!” He taps the little chip taped over her vocal cords and winks. “We make a perfect team.”

“You guys make a _loud_ team,” Hunk says. “Come on, lets get this over with. They’ve started sending out planes.”

Pidge nods, studying the screen display in their dashboard. “We’re almost there. Got our ID’s ready?”

“Yup.” Lance can hear Hunks smile. “You’re officially taking for Krosky and Lee for the day in another two minutes. Welcome to Area 51, Holt, McClain.”

“It’s an honor to serve in the Air Force,” Lance grins, bowing to the screen even though Hunk can’t see him, let alone from the screen.

-

It’s terrifying how easy it is to slip, like, a hundred stories underground. Hunk had been working from inside the base for about a month or so, and he’d gotten them all the needed clearance to get access to ..... well, he’d gotten them _all_ the clearance. They have these shafts inside the base that Lance would call elevators if they didn’t practically teleport - their velocity rockets up as soon as the door closes, and the little screen in the corner is their only indicator that they’re underground.

Pidge dons her headset, slim headphones that curl over the crown of her head, holograms popping up to keep her updated with a steady stream of obscure hacker-y information in front of her eyes. Lance doesn’t understand anything - a lot of. Numbers. Lines. Whatever.

The version Pidge designed for him is a lot more intuitive. It quickly maps out his area using sonar and the program assesses safe exits or hiding places, movement in the vicinity, objects - what they are, whether they could be useful.

So when the door opens and they’re on the lowest level of the base and it’s supposedly super heavily classified Lance really is expecting his sensors to go ballistic, spewing information at him - he’s expecting maybe a lot of weaponry, confiscated dangerous items, a super secret prototype drone??? Maybe evil looking doctor-y rooms and stretchers and differently sized aliens suspended in fluid.

What he doesn’t expect is an empty room. His headset is silent, picking up absolutely nothing - the only noise is in his earpiece is Hunk’s soft breathing.

“It’s...” Pidge steps forward. “Empty?” She steps forward. “The security systems for this level aren’t even functioning. There’s nothing here.”

Lance blows out a breath in a raspberry. “Well, I guess that was a bust. Next floor?”

Pidge huffs. “Hunk, you sure you can’t get camera access?”

“Not for the classified security systems, they’re sourced within an internal network separate for each floor.”

She squints. “Well, I’m starting to realize getting through those might not leave us with enough time to make a quick getaway. How’s your end?”

“Great!” Hunk says. “We’ve got a sweet ride and plenty of cargo space and insane speed capabilities. I didn’t even know planes could go this fast, guys. We could get out to the moon in this in like, 20 hours, pushing full throttle.”

“Awesome!” Lance says, laughing. “Okay, but I want to just snag some sick gear for our rich boy, check out some sweet aliens, maybe take some home tonight if you know what I mean-“

“Gross.”

“And just cruise on out, easy job.”

Pidge sighs. “Okay. Lance and I are gonna go hit the classified technology sectors. You get that thing ready to fly us out of here.”

“Roger that,” Hunk says cheerily, and then Pidge turns to Lance and winks.

“And we can work our way up, maybe pick someone up on the way.”

“God, both of you guys, just - wow.”

-

The tech floor has Pidge almost crying. Lance is busy trying to figure out some weird long barrel thing he really _hopes_ is a gun, when Pidge squeals. “Holy shit, Lance! This thing can scan from satellites all over the _world!_ ” he turns to see her shoving something glowy into her bag - something with more numbers and lines, as usual.

“That’s rad as _hell,_ ” he says emphatically. “But can you help me with this gun?”

She comes over and squints. “I think you just-“ her hand curls around a fitted grip somewhere in the base of the gun, and her second hand comes up, and something clicks and activates, neon blue light dripping down lines and circles around the craftsmanship of the weapon. Lance lets out a shrill laugh as a low humming starts up.

“This is awesome!!” A bright blue disc of light blooms out from the nozzle - he points the gun right down the line of shelves, and presses an indent near his index finger.

He feels the recoil before he sees the flare of energy out from the gun’s tip. Then there’s a beam of pure heat - icy blue and blistering, shooting from his hands and completely vaporizing a massive hole through an adjacent metal shelf and three more behind it.

Lance looks back at Pidge, mouth gaping. “People go to war with this stuff???”

Her brows furrow. “Okay, that probably drew attention. We gotta go.”

Lance nods, shoveling random equipment into his backpack, enough to hold proof of a completed heist for a rich white kid wanting to throw away money on criminals for dumb shit like this.

Which is to say... everything he can get his hands on, until his bag feels heavy enough.

“We could make so much money off this,” Lance breathes. “Even a single piece of any of this stuff would go for millions. Billions.”

“Yeah, if we get out alive,” Pidge says, eyeing the smoking hole in the shelves courtesy of Lance.

“I’m keeping this, FYI,” Lance informs her, shouldering the new gun.

“You look dumb with two big ass rifles in either hand.”

“I look _badass._ ”

-

“Guys don’t take the elevator,” Hunk warns. “We’re in Code Yellow Theta, which means every transportation service on the base is under watch, because some nerd out there just threatened to tunnel in. If you’re using the elevator you better come straight up to me, so we can fly this thing and get out.”

An idea sparks in Lance’s brain. “Hunk... you still have access to the security commands, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you said the main hangars are ground floor.”

“Well, yeah for good reason.”

“Theoretically those planes are enough of weapons in and of themselves that anyone piloting one of those bad boys and enough of a lack of self preservation could wreck sufficient hell.”

“Yeah, but Lance, this has got to be _covert-_ ”

“Open it up.”

“What?” Pidge snaps.

“Open it up,” Lance repeats. “Pidge is worried that we might have been discovered because I fired a blaster-“

“ _You fired a what-_ ”

“So letting the people in would cause enough chaos to give us some time.”

“You’ll send the whole base into lockdown.”

Lance grins. “Pretty sure they won’t be expecting us to already be in here and loaded, though,” he says. “And we’ve got you, our inside man! Send in the cavalry.”

Hunk breathes in. “Pidge, you’re not objecting to any of this???”

Pidge looks away guiltily. “Well....“ Lance knows that look in her eye - that gleam. She knows she should be rational, but she wants to see this play out just as much as he does.

“It’ll be hilarious,” Lance pleads into his mic.

“We’re gonna die,” Hunk mumbles, and then, “Okay. I’ll do it. Let me know when you’re ready for it.”

Lance grins. “Just let us pick up some hot alien chicks, and then we’ll unleash the chaos.”

-

Lance is gonna be honest, he wasn’t really expecting to meet actual aliens. Like... he joked about it. Talked about it. Made plans for it, and they were actually legit plans for the actual legit possibility they’d come into contact with extraterrestrial life. Stay away from quarantine markers. Don’t touch the terrestrial incarceration floors. Keep eyes sharp for protective gear. Don’t touch anything that isn’t out in the open - definitely don’t release anything that might be, like, sealed in an airtight tank, or whatever.

But when he and Pidge get to the floor that’s been marked for biological experimentation and study, he’s - ... he’s speechless.

The first concrete realization that slams into him right as Pidge gets them through the security clearance to access the main floor - aliens exist.

Aliens exist, and they’re here on Earth, and this means so many things Lance can’t even comprehend the complexity of it all - and he feels very out of his depth, standing in a room full of cryogenic freezers with lifeforms beyond imagining.

The second realization - people really have no idea what aliens look like.

They’re every color imaginable. Every skin texture and type - every kind of limb - every kind of fin, fur, scale, horn, wing, gill - shit he doesn’t even know how to classify. There are complex diagrams of dissections and astronomical explanations and details about planet of origin he doesn’t even have the imagination to comprehend.

“Lance...” Pidge says, and Lance looks over and she has tears in her eyes. “This is incredible.”

He doesn’t know what to say back, so he just nods dumbly. “Hunk... I wish you could see this.”

“Yeah, me too, believe me.”

“Wait,” Pidge says. “Sending you my feed.”

There’s some buttons and beeping and then Hunk gasps. “No. Way.”

Pidge and Lance make their way down the row of specimens. They wander off in their own directions, and Lance is honest to god wondering if he can fit one of these cryo things into their ship and he’s about to ask Hunk when Pidge calls him.

He weaves through frozen aliens to get to her, and then gasps when he sees what he’s looking at.

It’s a man.

A boy, really, short in stature... like, college age. Lance’s age. His skin is pallid - he looks absolutely drained. He’s in an all-black suit that covers him neck to ankle, with black hair to suggest he’s been frozen down here since, like, the 80’s or something.

“We have to let him free,” Pidge says, voice very small, hand over her mouth.

Lance frowns. “Ummm....”

“That could be you, Lance!”

He meets her gaze, eyebrows pinched up. “Maybe he’s in here for a reason?”

“Lance!” Pidge hisses at him, eyes wide in disbelief. “That’s a person. That’s a man. That’s a human and they’ve got him locked down here - are you really okay with that?”

Fucking.

FUCK!

God fucking fuck damn it fuck-

Lance groans, and then nods. “Fine. But I’m not carrying him,” he warns, right as there’s a loud dinging and the hazy crackle of an intercom somewhere over their heads.

“Attention all units, we have an internal breach. Prepare immediate lockdown. Engage with force.”

Pidge and Lance exchange one frantic look between them.

“Let em in, Hunk,” Lance says into his mic.

-

Lance ends up carrying him. He’s _cold,_ like meat from the fucking freezer, which.... is exactly what he is, pretty much. They manage to get an elevator by themselves, which isn’t too suspicious when the base starts mobilizing their fleets, and by some _miraculous_ arrangement no one tries to join them on their trip up to the hangar.

“Hunk, get moving,” Pidge warns as they shoot skyward, Lance panting and adjusting the boy’s deadweight on his poor aching muscles. “We’re coming in hot, elevator 16.”

“Already on it,” Lance hears back. “Tracking your arrival. I’m coming back down to _check damage_ now.” He says it in that way that makes it obvious he doesn’t have any damage to check, even though he really doesn’t need to.

When the elevator opens, Hunk’s plane is the first one they see, engines just starting to hum back to life. They book it for the open cargo hold, at which point several things happen at once.

The plane engine surges and it starts to hover, knocking away several people checking up for maintenance.

Hunk’s voice booms in their ears, “COME ON, COME ON, WE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE.”

Lance notes the sounds of gunfire and jets - it’s like he’s walked straight into a war zone.

And 80’s man wakes up.

He shoves Lance away roughly and he drops him in surprise, the other boy landing hard on the ground, shaking and propping himself up by his elbows, back to Lance.

“Did you- who is that?!?” Hunk’s yelling in his ear.

Lance reaches down to haul 80’s man up as Pidge leaps into the cargo hold, flinging her bag to the ground and coming back to offer Lance a hand. 80’s man grabs Lance’s outstretched hand instead - and then he twists it and pulls Lance down to the floor.

Before Lance really knows what’s happened, the boy’s standing over him, breathing hard, eyes frantically searching his face, forearm pressed to Lance’s throat and knees planted securely on either side of Lance’s hips. Lance struggles, pushing against Keith’s arm with his free hand.

“We’re trying to get you out of here, idiot,” he seethes, fighting for air.

There’s a flash of movement and then Pidge is sticking the end of a small, slim object into 80’s man’s neck. There’s a crackle and all of Lance’s hair stands on end, and then the other man slumps over, dead weight pinning Lance to the floor.

Lance struggles to get himself out from under the other man, now breathing ragged and slow. “Did you kill him??” he shrills.

“No,” Pidge says slowly, like she’s not sure. Then she’s reaching down and grabbing one of 80’s man’s arms and together they lift him into the cargo hold. “Go!”

The cargo door groans closed, and then they’re shooting off into the air.

Lance scrambles away from 80’s Man and finds his way up to the cockpit, plopping down in the co-pilot’s seat. “Please let me drive.”

“Pilot,” Hunk corrects.

“ _Please_ let me pilot.”

Hunk squints at him. “No.”

“PLEASE-“

“Last time you tried to pilot a plane, we crashed.”

“That was one time...”

-

80’s man wakes up and immediately trues to jerk his hands free of the handcuffs holding him to the sofa’s armrest. Lance watches him with idle curiosity from across the room as he bolts up, struggling with the metal.

“You can take that off but you gotta promise not to kill me,” Lance says after a minute.

80’s man whips his head up like he’s just now noticed that Lance is in the room - he narrows his eyes and looks around, taking in the room.

It’s a nice room. Lance doesn’t really understand why he looks so distraught at the sunlight shafting through their sheer curtains, given that his most recent area of residence was a fucking cryogenic containment chamber like two miles below ground. 80’s man finally turns back to Lance, a look of utter loathing gracing his features.

Lance raises his eyebrows. “I’m Lance, by the way. What’s your name?”

80’s man just continues to glare at him like he’s something particularly filthy on the bottom of his shoe, which - Lance is not gonna lie, it’s starting to get on his nerves. He sighs and leans back in his chair at the dining table.

“Look, man, I don’t know what your story is, but me and my friends just busted your mullet ass out of a super secure air force facility, so whatever you think it is we’re going to do to you, you’re probably way off base.”

80’s man’s eyes widen, like - finally, he has emotions - and then his gaze flits to the window again. “What year is this planet on?” he asks.

Lance’s brain stalls for a bit. “Excuse me?” He blinks. “Spent too much time with the aliens or something? You’re talking like you’re a time traveler or something.” Lance chuckles. “It’s 2019. Why, who was president when they took you in, Reagan?” It’s said with a snort, but then-

“I don’t know who your president is and I don’t care,” 80’s man says. “I need to find your Arizona desert.”

Lance furrows his brows, because he’s really lost now. “Um.... well. You’re in luck? Thats exactly where we are.”

80’s man nods at that. “Let me free, or I’ll have to force you.”

Lance twitches, eyes flitting to the handgun on the dinner table. “Uh... like i said, I’m not too keen on unlocking you if you’re planning on killing me, dude. Can I just - what is your agenda here, exactly? You’re talking all weird - I don’t even know your name?? And why were you in Area 51?”

80’s man continues to stare out the window for a bit, jaw set in a hard line, and then he slumps, burying his head in his hands. Lance straightens up, alarmed. Did he say something wrong?

“Are... you okay?”

80’s man breathes in raggedly, and then leans back into the couch, cuffed hand resting on the armrest. “I’m Keith.” He pauses. “I’m on this planet to find and protect a powerful weapon from falling into corrupt hands. I wasn’t careful, and... your pathetic law enforcement managed to take me. I landed on your planet about ten of your years ago. I have to get back to my mission.” He fixes his gaze on Lance. “I need you to free me, so I can protect this planet and the weapon, and if I’m too late, then I have to report back to my people and make sure it doesn’t get worse.”

Lance’s mouth is open. “Wait, so you’re actually an alien?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “That’s what you got out of that?”

Lance stutters, waving his hands in front of him. “But you look human! Are you a shapeshifter? Why do you speak English? And why do you have a mullet?”

Keith looks annoyed. “I don’t know what that is. Can you let me go, please?”

Lance blinks. “I- ... yeah. Um.” He gets up, digging in his pocket for the keys, and steps close to unlock the handcuffs. He pretends to spend time on it so he can study the guy up close.

He sure as hell doesn’t _look_ extraterrestrial. He’s quite handsome, actually, if a little pale - though he was frozen for 10 years, so maybe Lance shouldn’t judge. Keith has a strong jawline and a sharp nose, glittering eyes - Lance leans closer.

Keith’s head snaps up, eyes making contact with Lance. “What?” he quips.

“Are your eyes purple?” Lance mumbles, leaning closer.

To his surprise, Keith leans back, face flushing. “Can you get out of my space?”

Lance blinks, studying his reaction. Then he turns his attention back to the handcuffs, opening them and stepping away as Keith rubs his wrist. “Yeah, sorry.”

Keith stands, glaring at the floor for a second before glancing back at Lance with a critical eye from under his bangs. He seems to consider for a moment, and then says, “Actually, I could use your help.”

Lance’s eyebrows raise all the way up to his hairline. “Well, I _definitely_ wouldn’t mind helping _you_ out.”

“I didn’t even tell you what I need help with.”

“No, it was a line - whatever.” Lance sighs, placing one hand on his hip. “Whatchya got? We going into space? That’s, like, my dream.”

Keith considers. “We have to track down the Blue Lion of Voltron, and then I have to get in touch with my organization. I work with the Blade of Marmora, a unified Galra force against Emperor Zarkon, ruler of the known universe.”

Lance blinks. “That was a whole lot of words you said just there, muchacho.”

Keith’s gaze flattens into something deadpan enough to rival Pidge’s most withering looks. “We’re going to space.”

“Hell yeah! I’m in. Can we also go on a date?”

He wasn’t expecting that to work, honestly, but then - “Maybe.”

Lance’s jaw drops. “Really?”

“Are you going to help me?”

“Yeah! Hell yeah, lets go track down this magical space cat.”


End file.
